Elixir Vitae

What's In Your 12 Bottle Case? Bill Buitenhuys

2012-02-11T13:46:00.000-08:00

Bill Buitenhuys is a full-time wine and cocktail enthusiast and an occasional system engineer in Arizona. You can usually find him sitting on a bar stool or creating small batch, handcrafted bitters with his wife, Lillian, in AZ Bitters Lab.

Bill approached his list with the glee of a spirits lover combined with the focused attention of an engineer. He meticulously analyzed his needs and constructed his list methodically so he would be able to satisfy his cravings on that hypothetical deserted island.

And here’s where the shift to mixology is obvious: Bill is particular about his spirits, but his interest is clearly on how those spirits can be used to create cocktails. He begins with the cocktails and then chooses his spirits based on those, and arrives at his ‘best possible scenario’ selection.

Let’s take a look both at his list and his reasoning process for the list:

1.     Sazerac 18yr Rye
2.     Woodford Reserve Kentucky Bourbon
3.     Cocchi Vermouth di Torino
4.     Dolin de Chambery Dry Vermouth
5.     Pernod Absinthe
6.     Hendrick's Gin
7.     Plymouth Gin
8.     Luxardo Maraschino Liqueur
9.     Campari
10. Benedictine Liqueur
11.  ~~Laphroiag 15~~  Pierre Ferrand Esprit des Dieux 1er Cru du Cognac

12. Macallan 25

You’ll note four different liqueurs make the list; all are there to mix with other spirits. And two gins appear; one gin won’t suffice.

You’ll also note that Islay scotch lovers will be horrified to learn their beloved Laphroiag was knocked off the list for a Cognac---but it did make way for an obligatory brandy, and what a spectacular brandy it is!

The Cognac That Knocked
Laphroiag off the list

Interesting as well that the final scotch chosen was the Macallan, a non-peated sherry-oak style, over the smoky peat-monster of Laphroiag. I suspect that would have to do with the greater inherent mixability of Macallan over Laphroiag. I also suspect that will invite violent disagreement from Islay whisky aficionados, who tend to be outspoken about their drams.

Bill reflected a bit after constructing his list:

“I thought this would be easy. Just list out my favorite drinks, tally the bottles, and be done with it.

I'm assuming that seeing I'm on a deserted island that I'd have all the citrus that I'd want at my ready. Given enough time on the island I could make up some infusions and specialty bitters with some of the native fruits, herbs, and roots as well. I know if I go with classics then I can riff into many directions from there.

The Classic Bijou Cocktail

So I start with the drinks I'd never want to be without: Manhattan (rye, good sweet vermouth), Sazerac (add bourbon and absinthe), that perfect 3:1 Martini (add Hendricks and a dry vermouth), Negroni (add Plymouth and Campari), Aviation (add Luxardo), Vieux Carré (add cognac and Benedictine) and lovely options for Highland and Islay whiskey (add Macallan and Laphroiag).

Wait! I'm already at 13 bottles? A beloved Corpse Reviver #2 would require adding Lillet Blanc and Cointreau. The perfectly balanced Bijou Cocktail would require green Chartreuse. I haven't even begun to go after a nice amaro or that crisp, biting grappa. Rum, vodka, and tequila I could live without if I had to but how can I make a Barnum or a Fairbanks without some apricot brandy? And I still have to eliminate a bottle! Let's see. Deserted island. Tropics. I'm thinking I can do without the Islay malt (*shudder*). Ok, Laphroiag, you're out. That's it. Pack my case. “

What's In Your 12 Bottle Case?: Bartholomew Broadbent

2012-02-08T16:36:00.000-08:00

It’s a fascinating question, one that is often asked---right behind the unanswerable “What’s your favorite spirit?”---and one that requires a little thinking: If you had to limit your available spirits to one case, 12 bottles, which 12 would you choose?

The answers, it turns out, are always different. And the choices reveal much about the people making them.

The ‘rules’ were simple: Only 12 bottles, any spirits you wish, and they don’t have to include bitters (they’re small, so they’ll fit in to your case anyway, and we didn’t want to make it too difficult). You can think of it as your “marooned on a desert island” or “basic home bar” or simply the spirits that are most essential to you personally.

Bartholomew Broadbent is so eloquent and detailed in the comments regarding his 12 bottle case, we’ll let him speak for himself. (His long and illustrious bio follows.)

1. Pimm’s

As I was growing up, I was drinking wine with dinner from the age of 7. My parents put me off spirits, by saying that it would stunt my growth, but when I tasted Pimm’s, it was so delicious that I decided the risk worth taking. In England, there are two drinks which would be considered quintessentially British, in the winter, G&T [gin and tonic] in the summer, Pimm’s. Pimm’s is only served one way: Pimm’s No1, lemonade, cucumber, mint, orange, apple, lemon and ice. In America, referred to as Pimm’s Cup, in the UK it is simply Pimm’s.

A bit of spiritual history here: At one time there were several Pimm’s Cup Recipes available, each with a different spirit and each with a different number. Over the years, however, the offerings dwindled and now only the gin-based Pimm’s Cup #1 survives commercially. The sole unvarying companion to Pimm’s Cup #1 in the U.S. seems to be the ubiquitous cucumber slice.

2. Grand Marnier

Mostly when on holiday but, for instance, last night settled down in front of Downton Abbey, Grand Marnier is my perfect night cap,

3. Gin

Gin, the ubiquitous English spirit, not just for a G&T but also my preference as a substitute to vodka in a Bloody Mary. Not too worried about the brand as long as it is high octane, at least 43% alcohol by volume. It happens that I currently have The Original Bombay on my butler’s tray but I am a fan of Beefeater because my mother had a close friendship with the owner until he sold it to a big company. More important than the brand of gin, the brand of tonic; if it is isn’t Schweppes, I can always tell.

4. Pisco

Pisco Sour, when made properly with egg white and all, is delicious, perhaps pulling on my cultural subconscious because both my maternal grandparents were born in Chile. More often referred to as Peruvian, a traditional recipe would include 2 oz. pisco, 1 tablespoon sugar, 1 tablespoon fresh lime juice, 1 teaspoon pasteurized egg whites, beaten.

5. L’Arack de Musar

Aniseed macerated traditional Lebanese digestive made at my favorite winery, Chateau Musar. L’Arack de Musar will be made available in the US later in 2012. It drinks well neat and acts as a fantastic mixer for the avant-garde mixologists.

6. Broadbent 10 year Malmsey Madeira

I was asked to list a case to take to a desert island… there is only one wine which is indestructible enough to survive the heat, assuming we were stranded on a warm island, that wine is: Madeira. Since I produce my own, why not take one that I know to be perfect. It is the most versatile wine, brilliant with cigars, goes with any dessert and is fine on its own, after dinner, or watching the ships sail by.

7. Ferreira Duque de Braganca 20 year Tawny Port

Port is an essential after dinner drink. The Ferreira Duque de Braganca 20 year tawny is the benchmark of all tawny Ports and no self respecting bar would be without it. On its own, with nuts, with cigars, with coffee, with most desserts, always great.

8. Rum

I’m a huge fan of rum drinks, white or brown, depending on the mix. Before lunch or dinner, in any city, a Mojito! Any number of tropical rum drinks in the heat of the summer or tropics. I’m not so concerned about the brand as long as it is full strength and mixed with good ingredients.

9. Lillet

As an aperitif, Lillet is one of the more satisfying, made in the Bordeaux district by a winemaking family, it is classic, timeless and elegant. Add a twist of lime and ice.

10. Hennessy Cognac

I worked for Hennessy, my first job after high school, so I have a soft spot for this Cognac house. There, I was an interpreter and tour guide. With the VIPs, we’d mix all Hennessy, with the exception of Paradis and XO, to orange juice. It is especially beneficial to drink when nursing a cold. As a VIP tour guide, aged 18, Hennessy training should have included “how to entertain clients with Cognac and still make it home on the Solex [company supplied moped] navigating ancient cobbled streets”.

11. Tequila

Margaritas, of course. I like to support wines and spirits from producers with whom I’ve been acquainted, so Cabo Wabo would be my choice.

12. My last bottle?

Vintage Port, Elixir Végétal de la Grande Chartreuse, Scotch, Calvados … too many choices!

I can only take one, so it would have to be a mature Vintage Port. Any brand works fine for me, as young as Quinta do Crasto 1995 or as old as Ferreira 1815. Served, always, with Stilton cheese.

Bartholomew Broadbent apprenticed with The Worshipful Company of Distillers and worked for Hennessy Cognac and Schenley Canada but his career is mostly in wine. In June 1997 Decanter magazine named him one of the “fifty most influential in the wine world…the faces to watch in the new millennium”, reaffirmed by Wine&Spirits magazine [2008], who polled leaders throughout the industry, naming him one of ten in the world to be “driving the most revolutionary changes in wine”. Today, he has expanded from his pivotal role in the breathtaking growth of Port and Madeira to “exert a profound influence on the US wine market” says Decanter. He was profiled by Wine Spectator in 1986, Market Watch “The Pioneer of Port” in May 2008 and Forbes.com [2009]. Bartholomew, son of legendary Michael Broadbent, is now one of America’s leading national wine importers, Broadbent Selections, Inc., based in San Francisco, [www.broadbent.com], representing such famous brands as Chateau Musar. His speaking circuit includes major cruise lines, wine festivals, including Food&Wine’s Classic in Aspen [for 25 years]. He is KFOG’s “Wine Guy” and hosts a webtv show atwww.IntoWine.com. He makes Port, Madeira and Vinho Verde in Portugal under the Broadbent name, as well as Malbec in Argentina and Gruner Veltliner in Austria. He was a 50% partner in Dragon's Hollow, a pioneering winery in China, and launched the first nationally available Chinese wine to the US market. He can be followed on www.facebook.com/broadbentselections .

Affordable Elegance: Olivier Leflaive "Les Setilles" Bourgogne Blanc 2009

2012-02-08T09:55:00.000-08:00

Olivier Leflaive “Les Setilles” Bourgogne Blanc, 2009

Start with a respected Burgundian producer who has the ability to select from some of the finest parcels in two of the most prestigious communes for chardonnay in all of Burgundy, the homeland of chardonnay.

Blend and mature those parcels to precise and exacting standards---what the Burgundians call élevage, elevating or lifting up the wine--- and release it at a remarkably low price.

That’s a formula for success.

That’s what Olivier Leflaive does with the Les Setilles Bourgogne Blanc 2009. It’s rare when you find a wine of this quality sporting the humble and unassuming “Bourgogne Blanc” moniker. That’s usually seen on more modest, and, well, unassuming wines.

Although the names of Puligny-Montrachet and Meursault, two bastions of Premier Cru and Grand Cru chardonnays, don’t appear on the label, chardonnay from those two are what is inside the bottle.

Leflaive carefully selects from the two communes to achieve roughly a 70% Puligny-Montracher/30% Meursault balance, with Meursault contributing the plump roundness and Puligny-Montrachet the mineral austerity to the pairing.

Leflaive further shows its wisdom by using carefully restrained oak influence in the Les Setilles: this is a chardonnay where the fruit is allowed---encouraged, enabled---to shine through clearly and boldly, with only the lightest hint of vanilla oak to enhance the wine.

Remarkably floral in the nose, fresh and bright, with squirts of lemon zest, this is an enticing chardonnay from start to pleasant finish. The true signal of quiet quality, though, comes through after the taste, when you realize that you’re no longer looking at the elements of the wine, but appreciating the wine for what it is in total. And that’s because the elements come together so seamlessly, in such poised balance, that you stop noticing the details and simply enjoy the wine.

As a final grace note, LeFlaive prices the Les Setilles at a very reasonable price, so you can enjoy more of it. It is Leflaive’s best-selling chardonnay offering, and it’s a steal. And a shame that more people don’t know about it.

Olivier LeFlaive Burgundies are imported to the U.S. by Frederick Wildman Imports.

Hey, Bartender? Learn how to spell.

2012-02-07T20:22:00.000-08:00

Hey, Bartender?

You’re a professional, right? You like to look sharp and act sharp. You pride yourself on being the pro when you’re behind the bar. So would you please learn how to spell what you’re selling?

One thing that makes a pro look like an amateur is carelessness. And one of the first ways to spot a sloppy amateur or a less-than-professional bartender is what goes out on the cocktail menu in print or digital form for all to see.

The cocktail menu is the first thing the customer sees. Even worse: when it’s on the website, it’s what the public sees before they even get into your bar. First impressions are crucial; and looking sloppy in your first impression puts you so far behind the curve you may never struggle your way back.

Remember: if it's worth putting on the menu, it's worth your time to spell it correctly.

Believe it or not, there are more people than you might think that catch spelling errors, and those people think it’s indicative of being careless…or worse, uneducated. And if you’re so careless in that regard, then what does it say about the rest of what you do?

We’re not talking about your intelligence here; this has nothing to do with how smart you are---quite a few talented and smart people simply don’t spell very well. It’s just not on their wavelength. It’s well known that some people’s brains function differently than others; there are numerous examples of perfectly smart people who have mild learning difficulties, transposing letters and words and such. That can be corrected though.

You don’t even have to learn how to spell. Just get a good, reliable editor (or three or four, just to make sure) before you hit the print button and commit yourself. Every good writer has a good editor. Every bad writer lacks a good editor to tell him what to do and what not to do. It’s the equivalent of looking in the mirror, just to make sure, when you’re primping up to go out. Or better yet, have your buds check you out to see you won’t embarrass yourself. But get a bud that knows how to spell, okay?

Heck, just make sure you use word processing software that has Spell-Check function and make sure it’s turned on. That alone would catch many, if not most, of your errors.

What am I talking about? Let’s go over some examples from actual cocktail menus. (Names of places and people redacted so as not to unnecessarily embarrass anyone.)

“Angoustura” and “Pechauds” bitters --numerous examples found. C’mon. This is basic stuff to bartenders. Or should be. If you don’t know how to spell it when you use it every day, then you’re not very detail oriented, are you? Angostura. Peychaud’s.

“scottish whiskey” –oh, for shame, for shame. You’ve managed to alienate two of the most dedicated groups here, Scotsmen and whisky lovers: it’s Scotch, not Scottish; and it’s whisky, not whiskey. Scots and Scotch whisky drinkers are particular about this; sometimes to the point of being surly.

“Cherry Herring” --so…do they marinate the fish in cherry sauce and throw it into the cocktail or pour it through a strainer? Herring is a fish; Cherry Heering is a liqueur from Scandinavia with cherry flavor.

“Cocnac” –no, I believe the correct term is Cognac. The people that live there, and the people that make that particular brandy, are very picky about how they want the name spelled.

“Pineapple gum” and “grapfruit” –The first sounds like you may have put a stick of pineapple flavored gum in your cocktail, instead of ‘gomme’, which is a flavored syrup. The second is inexcusable---heck, it’s in the basic autocorrect function in Word that instantly changes when you’re typing. And it’s not like it’s an unusual or esoteric fruit.

“Worceshtershire sauce” ---okay, admittedly this would be easy to commit a typo on, but since it makes you sound like you were tipsy and lisping when you wrote it, well, fail.

“Citronage” ---this is actually a brand name. Which you’ve spelled wrong. Actually, you spelled it wrong three times on the menu, and then spelled it once correctly---on the same menu. So much for consistency; hope you don’t make your cocktails the same way. The name is “Citronge.” More properly, it is “Citrónge” if you follow the official brand name, but French diacritical marks are so rare these days, we could let that go.

That’s enough. You get the picture. Be a pro. Take care of the fine details to sure you look like one. And that includes checking your spelling. People notice if you don’t.

What's In Your 12 Bottle Case?: Lance Mayhew, Oregon Culinary Institute

2012-02-07T18:02:00.000-08:00

Lance Mayhew is a sophisticated man when it comes to spirits. A former chef (and still avid home chef), restaurant manager, bar manager, beverage manager, and a top-notch craft bartender, he is now a lead instructor at the prestigious Oregon Culinary Institute in Portland, Oregon. He is also a frequent contributor and elegant commentator on all matters spiritual to a number of magazines and internet sites (try Whisked Foodie to see an example) and, as a writer, has the ability to sample pretty much anything he wishes (and often before any of the rest of us have access to it.)

Although he is more than conversant with the cocktail scene, when he drinks he tends to prefer his spirits neat. When he does choose cocktails, he is usually quite specific about what he wants in those cocktails.

So with all the spirit world at his command, what does Lance like in his private stash? Here are Lance’s choices for his 12 Bottle Case of Spirits:

Absolut Vodka (For Bloody Marys)

Plymouth Gin (Can't live without Plymouth)

Beefeater Gin (Martinis)

Flor De Cana 4yr Silver Rum (Daiquiris)

Cazadores Reposado Tequila (totally versatile)

Aberlour Scotch (can't decide which marque)

The GLENLIVET 15yr Single Malt Scotch (nice spice)

Laphroaig 10yr Islay Single Malt Scotch (Need an Islay representative)

Yamazaki 18yr Japanese Whisky (So good, I dream about it)

Woodford Reserve Kentucky Bourbon (Gotta have a great bourbon on hand!)

Old Rittenhouse Rye Whiskey (Best rye out there, IMHO)

Martell Cordon Bleu Cognac (For cold winter nights)

So in the final analysis, one vodka, two gins, one light rum, one tequila, three different scotch whisky iterations, a Japanese Whisky (which is scotch-like), a singular Bourbon, a Kentucky Rye, and a Cognac.

It’s obvious that Lance prefers the brown spirits to the white and appreciates the effect of oak barrel aging (9 of the 12 are aged spirits).

Four of the whiskies are either scotch or scotch-like, in that they are made from malted barley---and the two American whiskies are renowned for their rye-spiced nature and oak barrel aging.

Although there is no precise age statement on the cognac, the Martell Cordon Bleu is considered a blend of approximately 25 year old eaux-de-vie, with an emphasis on the softer, more rounded cognacs of the Borderies area. The Flor de Caña Rum is 4 years old, and Cazadores Reposado Tequila has a brief “resting in the barrel” of only two months. Only the vodka and two gins are un-aged spirits.

This is a key item list with highly assertive flavors---notice there are no liqueurs here---and assuming Lance’s island or den has a sufficiency of bitters and the necessary selection of fresh fruits, this selection has the capability of many of the great classic cocktails, as well as a source of some sublime singular sipping. I just hope he has a bottle of white and a bottle of sweet vermouth hidden away somewhere.

Lance Mayhew brings over 20 years experience in the hospitality field. In addition to being bartender/bar manager/ wine director in high-volume restaurants such as Sacramento's Ricci's Restaurant and Portland's Meriwether's, 50 Plates, and Beaker & Flask, Lance has also managed the front of the house - responsible for hiring, training, and scheduling. His original cocktails have been featured in publications including MIX Magazine, Imbibe Magazine, The Bartenders Gin Compendium, and Left Coast Libations; and he's discussed bartending and mixology for publications including the The NY Times, Chilled, MIX, and The Oregonian. In 2008, the Beverage Network named him one of America's "Ten Trendsetting Mixologists". Lance not only brings extensive product knowledge of wine, beer, liquor and food to teaching at Oregon Culinary Institute; but extensive hospitality experience as well. Lance was part of the inaugural class of 2010's Wine Location Specialists (the first of 19 people to achieve this distinction in North America) and is certified by the Society of Wine Educators as a Certified Specialist of Spirits. Lance is the former contributing writer for About.com on whisky and professional bartending and is an experienced journalist, contributing to publications such as Tasting Panel Magazine and Imbibe Magazine. Lance is an active member of the Society of Wine Educators, the French Wine Society and the International Association for Culinary Professionals and frequently conducts wine and spirit dinners for the local community. Lance has appeared as a guest speaker at a number of culinary festivals and trade shows bringing his knowledge and insight of the world of wine and spirits to people around the country. Lance currently serves as the resident expert for all things wine, spirits and mixology for WhiskedFoodie.com.

What's In Your 12 Bottle Case? Chris Morris, Master Distiller

2012-02-05T14:57:00.000-08:00

Chris Morris,
Master Distiller

Chris Morris is one of a very few Master Distillers in the U.S. Spend more than a couple of minutes with him and you understand why he’s in that august position. He’s a rare soul who has a firm grasp of the science and mechanics of his trade, reinforced with a deep historical knowledge of the practices, the places and the people that have populated that trade, and completed by an intense romantic appreciation for it all. Quite simply, he’s a man who loves what he does and is exceptionally good at it; the ideal combination of craftsman and artist.

His profound knowledge of the entire world of spirits focuses on what he does: he is the Master Distiller for Woodford Reserve Kentucky Bourbon and the venerable Old Forester Kentucky Bourbon. Thus it is understandable that his list would include those spirits he makes or with which he is professionally associated.

The choices for rounding out his 12 bottle case are interesting as well, and are easily explained by Chris in his usual straightforward and direct style:

“As you know I appreciate intense flavor, unique flavor and brands that have honest, authentic stories.”

Intense, unique flavor and honest, authentic stories. That’s a pretty good basis for a 12 bottle case, I’d say.

Here are Chris’ choices, with his own narration:

Sweet Vermouth: an old favorite, Noilly Prat from France.

Bourbon: Woodford Reserve Kentucky Bourbon --Complex but balanced and so very versatile. The brand that has championed the Mint Julep and Manhattan cocktails.

Old Forester Signature 100 Proof Kentucky Bourbon -- for an old fashioned. America's oldest bourbon brand deserves a spot in the third and last of America's classic three bourbon drinks since it has long been the brand used at the birthplace of the drink, the famous Pendennis Club in Louisville.

Tennessee Whiskey: There’s nothing more unique than Jack Daniel's. Great in high balls.

Scotch: Ardbeg --The peaty giant of a single malt from Islay. Famous Grouse - a spicy blend.

Gin: Bombay Sapphire --clean and crisp for a refreshing Gin and Tonic.

Rum: The white has to be the classic Bacardi, so light and delicate. The dark - any of the Appleton Estates with their lengthy oak exposure.

Tequila: For Blanco, Herradura Silver with its unique barrel mellowed character. [Ed. Note: Herradura traditionally places their Silver tequila in barrels for 45 days; most white tequilas are not aged in any way.] Reposada - El Jimador, very spicy and brash. Aged - the biggest of all, Seleccion Suprema by Herradura. [Ed. Note: Herradura essentially created the Extra Añejo designation with Seleccion Suprema. Extra Añejo describes a tequila that is aged in excess of three years; Seleccion Suprema is currently aged for 49 months before release.]

I believe that makes an even dozen.

Chris apparently likes his spirits both neat and in cocktails, since he mentions five classics (Manhattan, Mint Julep, Old Fashioned, the Highball, and Gin & Tonic). But the cocktails cited stay true to his dictum of “intense flavors” as well.

Two bourbons, one Tennessee whiskey, a single malt and a blended scotch, a London Dry Gin, a white rum, an aged rum, and three iterations of tequila. Add a classic sweet vermouth for that all important Manhattan, and you’ve got an even dozen from a Master Distiller.

What's In Your 12 Bottle Case?

2012-02-05T08:57:00.000-08:00

What's In Your 12 Bottle Case?:

Mike Filigenzi, Spirits Connoisseur and Cocktailier

The answers, it turns out, are always different. And the choices reveal much about the people making them.

Mike Filigenzi is an affable and easy-going guy from Northern California with a well developed palate. He maintains, with a disarming smile, that he’s simply a guy who likes to put anything that tastes good into his mouth, given his passion for food, wine and cocktails. What he doesn’t bother to tell you about is his fine tuned palate and his frequent presence on several wine and food internet forums, where he is acknowledged as a wise advisor with significant experience. He lives in Sacramento with his wife and two daughters.

Here’s Mike’s contribution to 12 Bottle Case:

This is a great little exercise. It made me think. It will be interesting to see what other responses you get to this, from both the pros and the dedicated amateurs such as myself.

Here's what I've come up with. It reflects what I've tried and liked over the years as well as the fact that I rarely sip neat spirits - they're pretty much always mixed into cocktails.

Gin: Tanqueray

Rye: Rittenhouse Bonded and Willett Single Barrel
Bourbon: Woodford Reserve Kentucky Bourbon

Rum: Havana Club 15 Años and Lemon Hart Demerara

Tequila: Orendain Anniversario Extra-Añejo 8yo

Cognac: Camus XO (This is the one that I would not mix!)

Liqueurs: Cointreau, Luxardo Maraschino, Campari

Vermouth: Carpano Antica Formula Sweet Vermouth

Also rans: Fernet Branca, Dolin dry Vermouth.

One other note: If my wife is stranded with me, then the Willett Rye gets switched to Courvoisier VSOP for the Brandy Manhattans. [Mike’s wife is originally from Wisconsin, where they drink a lot of brandy---so much so that unless you specify when ordering a Manhattan or Old Fashioned, you’ll probably get a brandy version.]

Mike’s preference for mixed drinks and cocktails is pretty obvious, what with picking very mixable spirits and then putting in three liqueurs and a vermouth to round out the twelve. He's obviously a rye lover when it comes to whiskey too, with two hearty rye whiskies and Woodford Reserve, a definitive 'rye heavy bourbon' as his three selections in that category.

Even better were he allowed to sneak in the Fernet Branca and Dolin Vermouth, but of course he would never break the rules!

All in all, a well-selected 12 bottle case.

2012-02-04T20:41:00.000-08:00

Nathan Gerdes at work and play

What's in your 12 bottle case?:

Nathan Gerdes, Craft Bartender

The answers, it turns out, are always different. And the choices reveal much about the people making them.

First one to answer the question was Nathan Gerdes, Bar Manager at H50 Bar & Bistro in Portland. Nathan is a meticulous professional, thoughtful and precise and immensely knowledgeable about his craft. His approach to the question, and his thoughtful reply, is characteristic. Nathan even goes one step further: he gives you his 12 bottle case, then narrows it down to his Final Four for his desert island adventure!

Cadenhead's Old Raj GIn

“Tough one. Mainly because my “essentials bar” isn’t the same as my “stuck on a desert island bar”. For me, essentials means picking out the best representatives of each category and filling your space with the most versatile liqueurs to allow you to make the most quality drinks with such a limited supply of ingredients.

For that, my collection would include:

Vodka– Nope, sorry; I need the space for other bottles

Gin– Old Raj 55%

Michter's

Whiskey– Michter’s 10yr Rye, Caol Ila Islay Scotch, Eagle Rare Kentucky Bourbon

Tequila– Arette Blanco, Fortaleza Reposado

Caol Ila Single Malt

Rum– Smith and Cross Traditional Jamaican Pot Still Rum

Brandy– Tesseron Grande Champagne Cognac, Lot 53 “Perfection”

Vermouth– Dolin Blanc, Carpano Antica Formulae

Liqueurs– Chartreuse Green VEP, Gran Classico Bitters

Fortaleza Tequila

Bitters– All of them (since they magically take up no space in my case in this situation)

Tesseron Lot. 53

So long as I had access to fresh fruits, juices and some basic syrups I should be able to make most any cocktail with that list (vodka excluded obviously).

There is little extra description for why I chose my selections other than they are all very high quality, they represent their category well, and they don’t repeat flavor profiles with other bottles, giving me the most versatility for my 12 bottle bar. This, for example, is why although I love Rhum JM’s VSOP, it is not on my list – it’s too similar to a tequila crossed with a cognac.

P.S. My “stuck on a desert island bar” is nice and simple. It consists of 4 magical flasks that are never empty. One filled with Michters 10yr Rye, one filled with Rhum J M VSOP, one filled with Gran Classico Bitters, and one filled with fresh lime juice (for scurvy).”

You can find Nathan most often at the H50 Bar & Bistro, and occasionally at the Thatch Tiki Bar, both in Portland OR; he’ll be the friendly guy behind the bar.

What would be in your 12 bottle case? Feel free to join in with your recommendations.

2012-02-01T20:05:00.000-08:00

Cassoulet Dinner 2012, Part 2: The Main Event

One of the great things about BettyLu’s Cassoulet Dinner---for the guests anyway---is the simplicity of it. Not for BL or Lou, because it’s a major undertaking to make things look as simple as they are. But for the guests, it’s the casual and easy chatting of old acquaintances you perhaps don’t see as often as you used to (or as you’d like), some outstanding wines and tasty bites to slide into the evening pleasantly, then a quiet segue into the formally set dining room.

So, Let Us Segue…

Ten is the right number for a dinner party, I think. The room is filled, but not crowded. The table is set to perfection, and not overcrowded. And it’s manageable, without any feel of yelling over to someone at the other end. It’s comfortably intimate.

Lou gets our attention with the first couplet he brings out, two pristine bottles of Bollinger Grande Annee 1985. Yes, brothers and sisters, I said 1985. I doublechecked. Tiny bubbles, in the wine, make you feel happy, make you feel fine. Tiny bubbles, make you glad all over… A handsome wine, fully mature but not at all faded, still bright and lively but bronzing up beautifully, with that big, bold, fleshy Bollinger taste, slipping quietly and smoothly into light caramel and zesty orange, still prickly with acidity. It recalls, in brief flickering flashes, some memories of some great times with the ’85 vintage, with Bollinger, always one of my favorites, and curiously enough with Charles Hiedsieck 1985 as well. What a wonderful thing wine can be, to bring back the past, if even in passing, and to be able to revive pleasant memories.

Loveliness Is

There’s a bit of a hush in the room, as there should be for such a wine, I think; it’s definitely appreciated by all. (Anisman may have appreciated it more than anyone, but Bree is not following far behind.)

And just as we’re getting acquainted with the Bollinger, the first course arrives, a silky smooth Lobster Bisque with a creamy, slightly spicy bisque studded with plump bits of lobster. The Bollinger is a perfect foil for the bisque, cutting through the cream and the fat and leaving the palate clear for another delicious bite.

Bisque Business

There’s no hurry to this meal; we’re all mellowed by the splendid wine and the bisque, so we chat and laugh. All good meals should be as communally pleasant as this; really, this is what fine dining should be about, but often isn’t, either too formal or stilted or clumsy. This is a pleasant and natural flow of an evening.

Jam, eh?

At just the right moment, when the empty plates are being cleared and we’re all catching our breath, Lou brings out two bottles of Cote Rotie Jamet, 1998. Has it been so long we’ve been doing this that we’re up to the ‘98s? I suppose it has.

The Cote Rotie is still tight, nicely structured and reluctant to emerge, but there are dried flowers and some decent tart fruit and just a touch of bacon fat, which of course makes it harmonious with the cassoulet.

Bandol the run

There’s a backup wine to handle the seconds too! (Not clear whether someone brought it or Lou just had it handy.) It’s a Domaine Tempier Bandol 1993! Big broad flavors with the moo of mourvedre, it’s standard Catalan-Gallic bombast of Bandol, loaded with black fruit and licorice and tinged with dusty herbs and only slowly yielding its hidden secrets.

Both wines are remarkable companions for the star of the evening, BettyLu’s Cassoulet. Since we’ve waited all year, there’s anticipation for what it will be---Has she changed anything? Has she used any different ingredients? Is the texture or the spice or the fat or the tarbais-toothiness intact?

The Cassoulet Arrives...

Cassoulet, First Helping

It’s obvious the garlic sausage of last year has made a comeback; the wafting aroma is mouth-watering. And the chunks of confit and fat glistening sausages are irresistible; the beans are al dente as they should be, slightly chewy and sticky on the teeth and full and bursting with flavor in the mouth. Cassoulet is such a satisfying dish, rustic in the sense of originating as a country farmhouse meal ‘from the provinces’, but sophisticated in its flavors and composition. More than that though, there is a umami-ish fullness of aroma and flavor and texture from all the protein and fat you’re steadily consuming. It’s about as high level comfort food as you can get, And honestly, not just because I’m seeking favor so I’ll get invited back, but yes, that too: BettyLu’s is the best, the finest, of all I’ve had over the years.

Years ago, one of my favorite chefs, Dean Fearing from Texas, while gobbling down a bean-based dish I did at a tasting/dinner, commented that “this is one of those really satisfying things people can, and should, do well at in their own kitchens, but they don’t.” (Dean was a Kentucky boy and cassoulet-ish dishes were his personal idea of childhood heaven, but probably with squirrel or possum or such.) He was right; they often don’t do this as well as it should be done. BL does it about as good as it can be done.

The fat of the dish broadens out and softens up the tight knit Cote Rotie, coaxing out the flavors, and the wine keeps the cassoulet from dominating and snaps the palate back for more. The Bandol is simply more accommodating with its broader, more herby/fruity lavishness. The Rotie is closer to the principle of contrast, austere but yielding; the Bandol to similarity, fat and rich on an equal plane.

It’s a tough call as to whether the Jamet or the Tempier perform better with the cassoulet, honestly. I'd go with the Jamet myself, but it's close. They’re so different, yet each has its individual appeal with the meal. The Jamet is tighter, less yielding (in a Cornas sort of way, if that makes sense), but with infinite depth and finish to it. The Bandol is fatter, glossier, friendlier and more amenable to the food without ever losing its black fruit and spice nature. Hey, toss up. They’re both great.

Several second helpings later (don’t they feed Anisman at home, or does he fast in preparation for BL’s Cassoulet?), the oohing and ahhing and pleasant clinking of silverware on china subsides and we all settle down into quiet murmurs, reflecting, lingering while we toy with the wine stems, sated for the moment.

But we bestir ourselves, for there is, of course, a cheese course. Good, crusty, chewy homemade bread and three slices of rich and pungent cheese. And then dessert. Of course.

The Good One

Lou brings out the Port… it’s a Grahams 1983 Vintage. Oh, yay.

But wait, something is amiss!!! There’s a bit of a perplexed frown creasing Alan’s brow, then one eyebrow slowly arches in quizzical fashion; glances are exchanged down at that end of the table. First Alan, then Roxi, then Jason. Throats are cleared. Jason quietly speaks up, for no one will gainsay his portliness on this matter (heh). That bottle of Grahams, it appears, is corked.

Alan proffers a glass; yes, it’s so, and so sad too, for the other bottle is exactly what it should be, all silky and sinful. Without a blink, Lou jumps up and is back with another wine, for this was the last of the Grahams 1983. Fortunately there was enough in the one bottle for all of us to have at least a taste. The backup bottle is no slouch either, of course, this being Lou’s cellar.

The Great One

Jason immediately brightens---this is one of his all time favorites, and he’s opined about it frequently over the years---and the loss of the Grahams is assuaged for him, and I think for the others as well, for this is a rare treat indeed. It’s the Ferreira Duque de Bragança 20 Year Old Tawny Port! This is truly one of the great ones, boys and girls. It’s orange rind and apricot weathered wood and toasty brown sugar, with a whiff of caramel behind it, but really more of a maple bar donut kinda thing. Mick Jagger could do a serious sticky fingers on this one (dooda doo doo, insert Keith riff), with a little hit of toffee and coffee and marzipan almond. There’s a reason this is the benchmark of aged tawny port. It's evident right here in this glass.

For the Lactose Tolerant

The Cheese and Port Interlude

The cheeses were---as best I can recall---a Bleu d’Auvergne, an English Stilton, and a Neal’s Yard Shropshire Blue Cheddar. Since the Bishop of Norwich wasn’t there, Jason was happy.

Dessert To Bring It Home

No, thank you. Couldn't possibly.
Oh, maybe one more.
Thank you.

BL was going easy on us this night; she and her sexy sous chef had prepared hand rolled truffle chocolates with crushed nuts, just the sort of nibbly and sensous indulgence we need at this point: tasty and rich but not too much. And they’re small, so if we want to (we want to; we want to) eat a couple, we can rationalize it and it doesn’t add too much more weight than we’ve already taken on tonight. Sinful pleasures are best when they’re sinful and you know you shouldn’t but you do anyway, right?

And finally, it’s time. We’ve devoured all that was in front of us, we’ve chatted all night, the eyes are beginning to glaze and the eyelids are getting heavier by the moment. We’re replete. And everybody has to make it home (Jason and Lynn all the way to Berkeley!), And so we all thank Lou and BettyLu for their splendid hospitality on this most perfect of evenings, and plan on meeting again next year, and say our goodbyes for now.

And so Goodnight

Kudos to the Chef, BettyLu, for the inspiration and the work. And to Lou for the peerless wines. And for having the good sense to marry BettyLu. And Kevin for the faultless and friendly service which allowed BL to spend her time with us at table, being gracious. The Kessler Cassoulet is always a highlight of the year for those who attend, and this year, once again, BL and Lou pulled it off magnificently.

2012-01-30T15:02:00.000-08:00

Cassoulet 2012, Part 1: The Readiness Is All

It wasn’t hard for us to get on the plane. Cold and wet in Portland; dry and sunny in SoNapanoma. Nope, not difficult at all. Especially when the short trip was to culminate in BettyLu’s Cassoulet Dinner. Double incentives, as it were.

Yep, another year had passed and the first signal event of the new year was at hand. This is one dinner we insist on attending---as long as they keep inviting us; we’ll be there!

Roxi was assisting BL this year as scullery maid and sous chef, hoping to give BL just a bit of relief. That gave me a ringside seat, along with my host Lou, the other supervisor, into the mass of details that goes into preparing a home dinner for ten.

Roxi, Sous Chef du Jour

Of course, BL had been meticulously planning and preparing for this meal for several months, and Roxi and I were seeing only the last couple of days, but busy days they were. The two of them toiled in the kitchen endlessly, making sure every single element of the meal was to BettyLu’s exacting standards. Best of all, they seemed to be having fun doing it.

Lou and I were exhausted.

But it was finally coming on to the time when the guests would start arriving. All was in readiness (and as Shakespeare says, the readiness is all.)

To ease us into the evening, Lou had already opened a Fiano di Avellino, Colli di Lapio Romano Clelia, 2009. Unfortunately it didn’t get the attention it deserved (there was a football game on, and we were doubly counting down minutes), but it was bright and lovely, crisp and lemony-fruity with a little almond flower and a corresponding light lift of minerality to it. Very pleasant.

As our dinner companions, all familiar from past years, chatted and hugged, we settled in to a night of camaraderie, great food, and great wine. Acerbic Alan Bree was there, with the lovely Katrina. The good doctor, Mark Anisman, showed up with a smiling Mariko (who we missed last year because of her charity work for the Japanese tsunami). The legendary Jason Brandt Lewis and his legal adviser, renowned Berkeley Barrister Lynn Gorelick, arrived. Since it was Jason, he arrived with a bottle in hand (tequila, not wine) and a detailed story on his lips. With Roxi and me, and our hosts, that made ten.

When the guests arrived, Lou had the wines prepped and in full array. It was an intriguing line up of whites for our delectation. A returning champion, fondly remembered, the do Ferreira Albariño Cepas Vellas, Rias Baixas, 2006 was shiveringly good, richer and more taut than a ‘regular’ Albariño ever could be, what with its massive, almost brobdingnagian old vines yielding little of volume but much of flavor. The best and brightest and deepest Albariño I’ve ever had, for sure.

Another repeat performance, and again applauded for its startling ability to alter as it ages, constantly showing a changing face of Sauvignon Blanc, from crisp intensity to the softness of sage, from gunflint (no, seriously) to plump melons, once again a standout for its profound ability to age, the always appreciated Sancerre Chavignol Clos la Neore, 2008, by Edmond Vatan stood proudly on the bar.

Little Orange

Almost in counterpoint a new Young Turk shows up. It’s the Cowan Cellars Isa Sauvignon Blanc, Lake County, 2010. For an upstart from some young whippersnapper named Jim Cowan, it actually holds its own in company with the Neore. It’s a skin-fermented Sauvignon, what you might call Baby Orange wine as it is young for such and just now peeking out. It would be interesting to track the development of this infant to see what happens here. There is much in the way of promise.

A bit softer, but not by much, and certainly rounder and fatter, sort of like a stolid German hausfrau, a little heavy on pounds but packed with power, the Weingut Köfererhof Kerner, 2009, is something of a revelation that could only come, I believe, from that curious combination of Alpine Deutsch-Italien particular to the Trentino-Alto Adige. Take a grape that hasn’t shown much in another place and make it something special and interesting in this place; that seems to be the beau ideal for the Alto-Adige, doesn’t it? This Kerner has depth I’ve never been able to attribute to the variety before.

Herb Crackers, pre-baking

Interlude: Keep in mind that while we were drinking these lovely beverages, there was fascinating conversation---I will remind you that JBL, Bree and Anisman were in residence and in fine form, and Lou got his timely comment in every now and then, and none of the ladies was in the least bit shy to tell any of us we were full of it---and our hostess was plying us with some tasty tidbits while giving the impression that, la di da, she had just whipped them up on the spur of the moment, it was nothing. I knew better, of course, as I had watched BL and Roxi prepare them.

Passing in constant succession were spicy herb crackers (like me, rolled by Roxi), habit forming little squares that set off the wine perfectly; deep-fried arancini balls, crispy outside and creamy-oozy in; chutney and currant spread on pita bread (yum); prosciutto and melted teleme cheese on sesame rounds, and chile and lime crab on water crackers with chive dressing.

The aperitif WOTN had to be the astonishing and audacious Lopez de Heredia Viña Tondonia Reserva “White”, Rioja, 1992. If the Cowan Isa was Baby Orange, this is the Big Orange, what all other orange wines should aspire to. More a brassy brownish yellow than orange, of course. And most lovers of squeaky-clean-wine-to-look-at wine would be offput by the mere sight of it. “This is white wine? This isn’t white wine. Isn’t it spoiled? Probably way over the hill.”

Big Orange

This wine hasn’t even seen a hill to get over yet. It’s a baby at, what, 19. Okay, it’s an adolescent; I’ll give you that. Amazing and confounding in its profound complexity, the Tondonia is young and brash and middle-aged and mature, both at the same time. There’s obvious oxidation, yes, but it melds into the succulence and chewy grip of the wine in such a way as to be an adjunct to the overall quality and complexity rather than a detractor. It’s oxidative development as a way to deepen the flavors and add new layers of flavors at the same time.

And the key element is there is still plenty of fruit here. And heightened minerality. And sufficient acidity to keep everything bright. Both mellow and vibrant, if you can imagine that. Perhaps a stretch of analogy, but I liken the Tondonia to old copper: there’s a fascinating patina of strangely metallic green that makes the copper more intriguing, but there’s still the gleam and glisten of young and vibrant copper below that. See how a wine can compel us to wax in poor fumbling poesy to explain it?

How do I describe the taste? I don’t. You’ll have to go out and purchase a bottle yourself; this is an experiential wine. Get over your age preconceptions, because this wine will knock them all askew anyway. True, you’ll either like it or hate it; but you will definitely learn something from it. And that’s quite a statement for a bottle of wine, innit.

But enough of the preliminaries, delightful as they were. You’re eager for the Dinner. And you’ll get that narrative when I post, Cassoulet 2012, Part 2: The Main Event.

2011-12-12T18:35:00.000-08:00

Rock and Roll with Wine and Soul in Bordeaux

We were nestled into our tiny but comfortable room at the Hotel Notre Dame in Bordeaux, weary from traveling around the vast area of the region and in need of sustenance. Looking for something more casual than multi-course, more laid-back than formal, we thought we’d give a brand new local place a try. Just around the corner and down a quiet side street we saw the bold orange and black banner of Wine and Soul, so in we went.

The Soul

The proprietors, young and friendly and multilingual, welcomed us proudly and urged us to sit anywhere we wished. Since we had apparently arrived just as the doors opened for business, we had several choices, for the long room was neatly sectioned into different areas. There was the bar up front, the standing tables opposite, the comfortable lounges on one side in the back for larger parties, and the small dining tables adjacent.

Service was immediate and friendly and we shortly had a wine list, our own personal menu board, and a willing waiter to assist us. Our first pleasant surprise was when we learned that the young hip set in Bordeaux is perfectly willing to learn about wines from different regions. Although there was a goodly supply of locally produced wines, there were wines from other French regions, as well as Italian, German, and several Spanish. The waiter, when asked, admitted that Spanish wines were quite the thing currently. We opted for an attractively priced and tempting Austrian, Ried Vogelsang by Heidi Schrock, a juicy, spicy white composed of Welschriesling, Weissburgunder (Pinot Blanc), and Gelber Muskateller.

The Wine

It was aromatic and tasty, but not all that balanced. Had I not been told it was a blend of the three varieties I would have assumed outright it was the musky Muskateller; the Pinot Blanc didn’t assert itself much and the Welschriesling not at all. Hard to divine what Schrock intended with this wine---one assumes it might be the different notes of the three wines in the harmony of a bird’s sweet trill, but it came across more as a repetitive chirp without variation.

The Food

Still and all, the wine was serviceable with the altogether impressive foodstuffs we ordered. First there was the nod to carbohydrates and grease, a delicious bowl of crispy/crunchy pomme frites doused in a light garlic cream and loaded with lardons of chewy pork. Roxi managed a careful self-control with the dish; I didn’t even bother, and dived right in. After all, we had ordered it, and if any was left they’d think we didn’t like it, and that wasn’t polite, was it?

The cheese platter arrived shortly afterwards. No one does fealty to cheese quite as well as the French; they take it seriously. They huge platter was a perfect combination of aromas, flavors and textures: a double layered Morbier with its internal layer of ash; a dark-hued and heavy-skinned wedge of well aged Ste. Nectaire at its peak of flavor; strips of the classic Comté, nutty and toothy; small wedges of nicely cellared Brie, and delicate slices of Tomme de Savoie. Add to that a small ramekin of fruit paste, a mound of candied peanuts and an endless basket of ficelles and you had feast enough for the entire evening.

Of course, we didn’t stop there. We shared a filet of sole with sautéed greens and a white butter sauce, which helped us polish off the bottle of Vogelsang nicely.

Soul, Redux

By then Wine and Soul had filled up with a wide range of people from different age groups, some standing, some lounging, some at the bar---singles, couples, small groups, each in their different orbits, each enjoying themselves over the background noise of the French version of disco-ized American Pop and Rock and Roll. We lingered for a while, for it was cozy and comfortable and friendly.

Local Color and Goodnight

As we wandered out into the narrow side street down to rue Notre Dame, a young man plaintively called up to a pretty and slender young girl leaning out a casement window on the third floor. He was obviously yearning and pleading for entrance, but she would have none of it. Romeo continued to plead his case with increasingly eloquent desperation, but his fair Juliet would have none of it and curtly closed the window on him. As he moped away down the dark and silent street we turned the other way to our hotel replenished with food and wine and soul and ready for bed.

Would we go back? Yes we would. Pleasant, not at all pretentious, a bit adventurous, better than expected food, a wide-ranging wine list and a mellow relaxed vibe. What's not to like?

A shot and a beer---my way

2011-10-24T11:30:00.000-07:00

A Shot and a Beer---My Way!

It had been a long day, most of it standing and moving on tired knees and complaining ankles, with the slow, low ache in the small of the back. A long day, but a good day, a satisfying day with a job well done. Now it was time to relax and reward in a lively but not too loud bar with a little liquid refreshment in good company. It was time for a shot and a beer.

There might be times, I’ll admit, when a standard generic brew and a well shot could work...but this wasn’t one of them. If you’re rewarding and relaxing, you should do it right.

To drink right you have to a good bar. If you happen to be in Anchorage, Alaska, one great place to go is Suite 101 Restaurant and Bar. Good food and a bar worth bellying up to---if you can get to the bar through all the folks that got there before you and don’t want to leave. Go early; this is a mighty popular place!

To drink right you have to order right, and a quick two-second scan of the bar told me that was easily achieved.

The shot was a tight, snappy Manhattan made with Woodford Reserve Kentucky Bourbon, soft and sweet with the obligate corn, supported with the firm body of malted barley and reinforced with the zesty spice of rye (whence cometh the aforementioned snap). There are some aficionados of the Manhattan that prefer a sweeter style of Manhattan, but I’m not one of them---too sweet, the balance of the drink is off, making it a sweet instead of a nervy-taut and spicy cocktail with a noticeable bite.

The beer? Easy, when there’s a tap handle sticking up from the bar that says Stella Artois. They even have the classic Stella glass, tall and fat-bellied with just the right balance in the hand and just the right curve to show off the fine bead. And for the final perfect touch, it’s just the right temperature, chilled but not so cold the taste is obliterated and warming up ever so slowly as you work your way down the glass, and holding just the right gas balance, not too soft, not too sharp. Stella Artois is a great light style from Leuven, Belgium (where they know how to make good beer). Crisp, tangy, yeasty, mild hops, and an all around easy-drinking brew, it was the perfect followup to the Woodford Manhattan.

There’s nothing quite like a shot and a beer after a long day’s work. Especially when you call the right shot and the right beer.

2011-09-04T18:48:00.000-07:00

NxNW: Alfred Hitchcock Would Be Proud

I am conflicted, gentle readers. Long a proponent of labeling multi-varietal wines, and even longer a proponent of more 'truth in labeling' so as to raise the general consciousness gently about what was in those bottles that tasted so good, I come across something like this, a marketer's dream turned into a nightmare of specificity and a mockery of pseudo-geeky cork-dorky regional wine jingoes.

The acronymic umbrella name for the brand I like. It's visual and catchy for a moderate priced wine and grabs the eye to pull you in.

But beyond that, uh?

Let's see: looks like eleven different vineyards contributing fruit here. And of course, we can pick out the influence each had to make this wine what it is. Of course. Especially the three with the contribution of 1% each.

Then we are told these grapes were harvested over a forty-five day period (but vexingly, not when each vineyard was harvested. Why not!)

Further, we find the varietal breakdown of the contents---Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Cabernet Franc, and Petit Verdot---apparently they could not find any Malbec in time to burnish this mix.

Wait? So now we know the eleven vineyards and their precise percentages. And roughly what time they were harvested (given a month and a half window). And the percentage of varieties in the blend. Okay. Okay. Good information all, I'll admit, although I'm not sure of any usefulness it might have...maybe so I can muse over the relative ripeness of the grapes and whether the seeds when bitten were green or brown? Perhaps. Perhaps. Trouble is, appetite whetted with this overload of information, I now want to know what vineyard grew what grape in what percentage?

And let us not forget the proud declamation of "French & American Oak". Oak must not have sufficient respect though, for the brand to give us specific percentage of how much of each constituted the regimen here. And doesn't everyone want to know which French & American oak---lot of difference imparted between Limousin and Nevers, you know. And surely there must be some Vosges in there? Stylish winemakers all use at least a little bit of Vosges these day, if only to say when asked, "Oh, there's some Vosges, of course. We like those tight grains in the Vosges." Vosges is in vogue in the Northwest.

There's the conflict I suffer. For years I've explained to anyone who would listen (most didn't; they didn't care very much) about providing more information that people might want to know, and providing some of it (more of it) clearly on the front label. And here this label comes along to do much of what I wanted to see---and it emerges as a marketer's jibble jabble, providing a profusion of information that appears to inform, but doesn't, essentially making the information part of the brand image, although the information provides little to no substantive information for the person buying this wine! The old sizzle sans steak rule.

How fitting this is also the name of one of Hitchcock's best flicks, a story where all is not what it appears to be, and of a man who just wants a little explanation and gets smoke and mirrors instead. Imaginative and attractive smoke and mirrors, mind you, but still nothing more than elaborate charades. Ooo, there's another movie that works!!!

Or wait again: maybe this is a cunning effort by the marketers to satisfy the desire of those wine geeks who love nothing more than endless discussion over wine---you know, those people who will bore you to death with the discussion of infinite pinhead-dancing angels regarding esoteric things like biodynamics and natural wine, and speculating avidly over what color Robert Parker's urine was after consuming an entire bottle of Chateau Lynch-Bages 2004? You know. Those people (blush).

(Feel free to tell me I'm making much ado about nothing [Ding. Another one.] or I'm focused on a tempest [Ding.] in a teapot, and should find better things to do than maunder around about this while simultaneously coming up with atrocious puns. But it irritates me. And after all, what are blogs for if not to air out the meaningless irritations of an old guy and waste other people's time?)

[And to my friend Thor, who might but probably won't read this: please note I did not misuse the word "variety"herein. Although I did otherwise mangle and disgrace the language in other ways.]

Stunning single cask Benedictine Liqueur

2011-09-02T14:04:00.000-07:00

Benedictine Single Cask Liqueur

Wow! Just...Wow!

Anyone who knows me, or reads the drivel I write, knows that I'm not often at a loss for words. This Benedictine so stunned me, though, that I was unable to describe it. All I wanted to do was have more.

You'll all be pleased to know that I got over it, and am now able to provide words with my usual logorrhea, however poor they may be at fully explaining how good this liqueur was.

The Benedictine Single Cask Liqueur, as far as I can determine, is still unreleased and unavailable in the U.S. And I have no idea what their plans are.

I've had it twice now: once from an internet journalist who received a preview sample, and again just recently courtesy of a bootlegged bottle luggaged back from a trip to England and Scotland by a bartender who wanted to get first hand knowledge of London Dry Gin and Single Malt Scotch and discovered this along the way.

The Benedictine Single Cask, billed as a "Very Fine Dry Liqueur", is just that. It is also subtle, elegant, delicately but profusely flavored (oxymoronic as that might sound) with the most intriguing and beguiling botanicals unobscured by too much sugar. This is a liqueur with a half-life, slowly trickling out scents and flavors that tease and tantalize right at the threshold of your awareness in what seems a never-ending sequeunce.

It's a liqueur I doubt you could ever get to the bottom of. And certainly not in one small serving.

I'm already a fan of the monastic liqueurs, both Benedictine and Chartreuse (more the green than the somewhat anemic yellow), and this version of the Benedictine represents the highest and grandest expression of botanically-driven liqueurs that ever I've had.

So seek this one out. Look for it when you travel abroad. Hope that it eventually makes its way to this country so you can score a bottle. Don't worry about how much it costs (quite frankly, I expect it will be an ultra-premium price, as it should be). Doesn't matter. Just get a bottle.

You'll be glad you did. And then you'll be sorry you didn't get two when you had the chance. And if you manage to get three, remember your old drinking buddy Hoke for turning you on to this most excellent of liqueurs.

Gemischter Satz at Gruner

2011-09-02T12:41:00.000-07:00

Crappy Picture of Good Wine

Gemischter Satz at Gruner

In which I continue my fascination with a particular wine from Austria known as "Gemischter Satz".

Having had occasion to meet up with old friend and bon vivant Jake Parrott and his wife Christina, Roxi and I ended up having dinner at Gruner in Portland, OR, an "Alpine-influenced" restaurant dedicated to bringing Alpine cooking from all the countries, regions, and cuisines of that area.

The wine list is a wine geek's dream, but we never got past the whites on this night, because the selection was so good, and whites suited our food choices so well, that we didn't have to go any further.

Which means, of course, we'll just have to go back and focus on the other side of the excellent wine list.

With so many choices, and with Jake and my own humble self being so devoted to Austrian, German, Friulian and Jura wines, we diddled for a long while and then compromised with the Wieniniger Wien Gemischter Satz 2009, a wine with which I was both very familiar and very fond of.

It's imported now by Winebow, and handled in Oregon by Lemma Wine Company.

The Wieninger Wien was all I had hoped for.

Served too cold for total enjoyment, it needed to warm up at the table, so we (barely) managed to restrain ourselves until the wine warmed and the apps arrived---said apps being an outstanding classic maltauschen, a Germanic pasta and ricotta that was so sublime you could hardly tell where the ricotta stopped and the pasta began; a concoction of eggplant, tomatoes, blistered red peppers, and delicious gypsy peppers in oil; and a thin, crackling, comfort food to the max, Alsatian flammenkuechen. (Yowsa! is, I believe, the technical term to apply at this point.)

The Wieninger then proceeded to explode with flavor, and since the rule of the Gemischter Satz, a tiny little zone/type found only on the outskirts of Vienna (Wien) is that of various un-announced field blends, we had the further wine geek's delight in trying to figure out what the hell was in the glass!

We knew there had to be Gruner Veltliner. And we were all pretty sure there was a sizable component of Pinot Blanc. Jake even went so far as to remark that the wine reminded him of Trimbach's Pinot Blanc from Alsace. But finally, we just gave up, gave in, and simply enjoyed the mingling of varieties of the wine.

The wine was profoundly responsive to the foods on the table as well (spaetzle with herb roasted chicken, house-made sausages with sauerkraut (which were truly exceptional, by the way, and I say that as a guy who lived for three wonderful years in Germany devouring as many great sausages as I could; plus the sauerkraut was more in the manner of French choucroute, one of the best dishes known to man), and a trout wrapped in speck that Jake was chowing down on.

Delivery of the bill at Gruner

The wine handily accommodated everything and adapted to it---hey, with all those field-blended varieties in there, it had to be flexible, right?---and made the meal a success.

And as a bonus, when opened the wine bottle made that most romantic of sounds that transported us into the land of bliss, that singular sound that all true wine lovers adore----the neat, crisp crack of the screwcap being snapped loose!

So go out and get yourself some Wieninger Wien Gemischter Satz, avaiable (hopefully) wherever Winebow's extensive tentacles reach in the U.S. You'll be glad you did.

Helioterra: Oregon Pinot Blanc with a Northern Italian accent

2011-05-21T09:30:00.000-07:00

You just never know when you're going to come across a really great wine.

This time I found a nifty one during...of all things...a single barrel bourbon tasting.

Yup. I was semi-officiating...well more like sententiously pontificating...at a single barrel bourbon selection tasting for a sizable bunch of whiskey enthusiasts, wherein we were all tasting individual barrel samples to decide which would be selected for the final bottling, and I found myself between two winemakers.

It was hardly a choice of a rock and hard place though, because one of them was an internet wine buddy, Vincent Fritsche (he of the Vincent Wine Company here in Oregon, as well as being one of the four Guild Winemakers, also here in Oregon). The other, as it turned out, was his partner in wine at Guild, Ann Hubatch, and also proud proprietor of her new winery debut, Helioterra.

Since several samples of bourbon (all in the name of serious science!) can make one loquacious---not that I need any lubrication for that, or so my wife frequently tells me---we all shortly found out that amidst all the many bottles of whiskey at the abounding bar, there was a bottle of Ann's Pinot Blanc.

"Aha!" said I. Yes, I do actually say "Aha!" on occasions, and this was one of them. A chance to continue my quest for the elusive but occasional good bottle of Pinot Blanc. So I asked Ann whether hers was closer to a fruity California style or an earthy Alsatian style.

"Neither," she quickly replied. "It's actually more like a Northern Italian Pinot Bianco---crisp, citrusy, lively, good acidity." "Aha," I said again (see, I told you I say it, but usually to myself), and immediately headed over to try the Helioterra Pinot Blanc.

She was right: decidedly Northern Italian in style, with lots of perky, zippy citrus fruit; crisp, nicely etched flavors; bright acids; a streak of green herbal (Ann said freshly shaved fennel, and I agree with her); and down deep a lovely earthiness, transmitted as both flavor and fullness in the mouth. For the first vintage out of the gate with her new label she has a winner, a thoroughly drinkable and engaging Pinot Blanc at a nice under-$20 price.

How did she manage the crispness and the eathiness in the same wine? She fermented partly in stainless steel and partly (small partly) in wood, and blended them together! Nicely done. (She's also a University of Wisconsin-trained geologist, so maybe she knows stuff about getting earth in wine than us regular people do, whaddaIknow?)

Turns out the Pinot Blanc's not a one trick pony either, because once I saw the label it nudged a memory, so I went on the internet when I got home and checked---the Helioterra Syrah Columbia Valley had received some serious kudos from Palate Press, the online wine magazine I read with some regularity (basically because it's good). You can read that review here.

So....rising star...ten year overnight phenom...puffs and points and prongs...blah blah blah. In short, stay tuned to Helioterra, and check it out when you get a chance. It's small production (by choice), so it may not be easy to find; but hey, nothing good is easy, right? Make the extra effort. You'll be rewarded. And in this life too; you don't have to wait for that damned Rapture, which apparently keeps getting postponed anyway.

Walla Walla Buty treatment----with Champoux!

2011-05-17T09:41:00.000-07:00

Went visiting last weekend over to Walla Walla wine country, in search of relatives, balloons, and wine.

Found the relatives, weather busted the balloon adventure---seems hot-air balloon festivals don’t work when it is heavy rain and high winds; go figure---and renewed my acquaintance with the excellent wines of Buty Vineyards.

I was supremely impressed with the entire operation last year at the World Wine Bloggers Conference held in Walla Wall. The people, the vineyard holdings, and the wines all combined to make for a promising future for this relatively new winery.

The rosé was a knockout, brimming with bright fruit. The white blend of Semillon, Sauvignon and Muscadelle was likewise shimmery bright and dancing with flavor. And their red wines, both the Syrah-based and the Bordeaux variety blends, were compelling, with the epitome of the brand in their evocative “Rediviva of the Stones” releases.

This visit/tasting showed they continue on that path. All the wines were a pleasure to taste, and there’s not a single one that wouldn’t grace any collector’s cellar or consumer’s table.

The 2010 Beast Rosé of the Stones from their promising young Rockgarden Estate Vineyard in the Walla Walla Valley (a site more reminiscent of Chateauneuf-du-Pape than anything else, with its fields of weathered river cobblestones; must have been ever so much fun to put that vineyard in!) was Grenache to the max, exploding with sweet fruit, lush and lovely and perfect for picnics and light summer fare.

The 2009 Semillon/Sauvignon/Muscadelle continued to show tight structure, with lush fruit well-restrained by acidity. Can’t help but wonder why Semillon from Washington State isn’t raved about more; certainly the examples I’ve had over the years puts it up there with Hunter River Valley and the handful of California producers for the variety. Suppose it’s just not a ‘sexy money grape’; more’s the shame, for it’s a grape worth focusing on, and does a fine job here of rounding out the flavor balance of this lovely white wine.

The Bordeaux blends were clamoring for attention in our tasting, though, so we hurried on to them. First was the 2009 Merlot & Cabernet Franc from the Connor Lee and Champoux Vineyards, with purportedly the highest rate yet of Cabernet Franc in the mix. Gorgeous wine; velvety rich and soft from the Merlot but bolstered beautifully (butifully? Sorry.) by the tobaccoey, slightly chocolatey Franc. A lovely combination done well by winemaker Caleb Foster.

Second up was the 2008 Champoux Vineyard Cabernet Sauvignon & Franc---similar to the previous, but with substantially more body; higher acid for structure; noticeably more tannin; denser, tighter blackberry fruit; and a long, extended finish. Short term: Merlot & Cabernet Franc. Longer term: the two Cabernets.

There were two Rediviva reds on the tasting bar. The 2007 Columbia Rediviva from the Phinney Hill Vineyard was excellent, but quite honestly the 2008 Rediviva of the Stones from the Walla Walla Valley was the attention-grabber here with its lush, just short of being over the top blueberry fruit contained within a Bordeaux-ish framework.

Caleb has been upfront in showing the world that the surprising blend of Syrah and Cabernet can be an altogether compelling combination, and this wine showcases exactly why that is. The elements of Syrah are there (more in a new world ripe fruit way, admittedly) to provide fullness and a lush, rich mouthfeel; but the addition of the Cabernet is a masterstroke, adding tight structure and impressive longevity and elegance to the mix.

With the vagaries of varietal trendiness going on these days, and the ups and downs in popularity of Syrah, this combination may show the future of the Walla Walla Valley wine region: two excellent grape varieties characteristic of the region that, combined, create something truly distinctive and enjoyable. This may just be the “Walla Walla Signature” that can vault a region into worldwide recognition.

I left with an even greater appreciation of what Caleb and Nina are accomplishing at Buty Vineyards. I also left with some wine. Buty remains one of the wineries to watch, from Walla Walla, Washington state and the Pacific Northwest.

Cassoulet at the Kesslers 2011, Part 4

2011-05-03T11:56:00.000-07:00

The 1998 Cote Rotie Jasmin is on the table. At first sip it's a heady brew, firm and vigorous and full of black fruit and brambles and leather. Should hold up well to the cassoulet.

And speaking of which, here's plates a-brimming with bean stew!

The smell is maddening, with mingled odors of duck and garlicky sausage. Hard to resist digging in when there's cassoulet on the table. Must. Wait. Everybody served? Go!

I always find it impossible to believe that BettyLu can manage to one-up herself from one year to the next. And I end up being proved wrong once again. This year she's upfront
about the major change: she wasn't at all happy with the quality of
the saucisse Toulouse---or would that be saucisson Toulousienne?---she was receiving from her purveyors, so she elected to go with a garlicky style of sausage this time. It's a firmer sausage, less grainy and mealy than the Toulouse, more tightly packed, and, to me, better, with a chewier, denser texture and a more noticeable garlic flavor. I belong to the No Such Thing As Too Much Garlic Club, so that's a good thing!

Cassoulet is such a wonderful all-around soul-satisfying dish, with the beans still firm and toothy and not cooked to a paste; the succulent and chewy confit with its rich, oily flavor; and the contrasting nature and texture of the sausages. And I love the salty, fat richness of the dish. Speaks to the peasant in me, I guess. Add one veggie for contrast---in this case some fresh and crunchy snap peas---and you've got a perfect meal for a frigid, damp winter day (and I don't care what the calendar says, it's winter out there still.)

The Cote Rotie is, once again and thank you Lou, a splendid match for the cassoulet. As it opens out and responds to the flavors of the dish, it manages to keep its firmness but adds a specific soft blueberry fruit underneath--or simply reveals it, I suppose; in any case, it is there. It is one of the more remarkable and enjoyable experiences in the world of wine and food to appreciate such an even match, where the full flavor of the food is equaled by the force and complexity of the wine.

I'm always intrigued with a great bottle of Cote Rotie: it engages intellectually as much as viscerally. There's a touch of Viognier in this one, about 5% (and no, I can't tell that with my nose; I looked it up on the InterWeb) and I imagine there is a corresponding 'lift' to the aromas as a result. But then, that could be my imagination more than a reality. Whatever is at work here, it's working well. What's not imagined but very real is the intricate complexity of the wine.

Jasmin itself is fascinating too, in the sense that the original Jasmin, who acquired the vineyards, was a notable chef in the region. Fitting, then, that his heritage wine continues to grace fine tables and enhance fine dishes like this cassoulet. Also fitting that the current Jasmin, Patrick, makes the wine as an assemblage of Cotes Brune and Blonde---perhaps in the way a chef would assemble and meld separate ingredients in a recipe?

Everyone makes the proper noises at this point. Nils Venge, old Napa grape wrangler that he is, chimes in with his highest compliment, when he tells Lou, "For something that's not Cabernet, this is pretty good wine."

But of course, we know there's more in store, don't we?

When the Cote Rotie begins to run low, out comes a local wine from one of our favorite local boys (who couldn't be with us at dinner because he was living the extravagant life in New York), Edmunds St. John Syrah Bassetti Vineyards 2001, from San Luis Obispo County.

Steve isn't using this source vineyard any longer, and more's the pity for it, sez I, because this is one big herkin' lunk of a wine, if you like it that way, and it's just now beginning to show some civilization and softening around the edges, but with that same wild, untamed heart it always had.

Ten years on. And still nothing but a gawky child. Shame they can't make California wines that age well, innit.

Way less polished sophistication and complexity than the Cote Rotie at right this moment in comparative wine time, but still a goodly match for the cassoulet---did we mention seconds had gone around, and Kevin tends to have a heavy hand with the serving spoon?---and managing to hold its own.

But Nils did mention Cabernet, and word was he may have done a harvest or two of decent stuff back when, so Lou once again heads to his wine cellar and comes out with a bottle of Villa Mt. Eden Cabernet Sauvignon Reserve Napa Valley 1978.

Nils looks to be approving of this development. He also looks impressed...although he doesn't look at all surprised to see it coming from Lou's cellar. But then, no one gets surprised at what may come from Lou's cellar.

Once again, roll out all the tired old cliches about Napa and wines that don't age, and they don't make 'em like that anymore (except when they do). Throw in an "alluvial plain" or "hothouse environment" for good measure. Hard to sneer, belittle or condescend when you have a wine such as this in the glass.

Still vibrant, humming with tension, tannins softened enough to round it out and balance the still fleshy fruit, this is a raspbery and blackberry cabernet, that dark, tart fruit style that seems to have endless depth to it, sufficient acids to keep it interesting, and tannins to keep it long and lingering and ever-so-slightly bittersweet at the back of the mouth, going from berry to tobacco to herbs to cocoa dust in one unbroken line.

There's a bit of dolce going around for a pleasant little interlude; then, with a refreshed palate, it's pass the port time. It's customary for BL to bring out the port glasses and pour, and so she does.

Fonseca Vintage Port 1977...and this makes an appropriate followup to the lovely red wines served with the cassoulet, because it has both deep blackberry and full-on licorice in excess, a fatter, sleeker, richer, more voluptuous echo of the syrah and reverberation of the cabernet. Perfect!

I have many fond memories of the 1977 vintage, and this is one of the finest of that year, perfectly apportioned and balanced and only now beginning to reveal its treasures. A remarkable bottle of port, and a more than fitting finish to a fabulous meal.

So the cassoulet season again comes to a pleasant close, tummies stuffed, appetites sated, good feelings all around; and even the rain has stopped, for now. As the fortunate few of this last gathering of Cassoulet 2011 wend their way into the night, they're already already anticipating next year...

Cassoulet at the Kesslers 2011, Part 3

2011-04-30T14:45:00.000-07:00

Biscuits and toast! Sweet lemon curd. Seville oranges.

Allow me to elaborate: fresh baked biscuits, hot from the oven, so hot you grab for one quickly and juggle it from hand to hand until it cools enough to handle gingerly, just with your fingertips; delicately crusty on top but when you twist it open and it exhales a little puff of steam, it’s doughy soft inside and smells fresh and clean and still a bit yeasty, just waiting for the slather of pure creamery butter.

But in the background, clanking and futtering and making the mysterious sounds of hot metal expanding, an old toaster is emitting fumes of toasty bread, with a touch of char and wisp of black smoke where the reliable antique always burns a bit too close to the slab of hand-cut bread so that you always look to see if there is a toasted face of Jesus or beneficent Mary beaming out in singed glory to start your morning.

Allow me to summarize: Egly-Ouriet Brut Les Vignes de Vrigny Champagne.

When champagne-lovers strive to come up with appropriate descriptors for the elegance and subtle complexities of champagne, it often comes out elaborated, stilted, artificial, too intricate by far; champagne is difficult to describe, in large part because as soon as you try to grasp something in champagne it shifts away, teasing and elusive and coy, and shows you another side, briefly, to lead you on and back for another sip. What was that?

Best, then, to stick with the basics and leave it at that, hoping some of the message, although inchoate will get through.

So, Egly-Ouriet: biscuits and toast. You had to be there.

Then, with the refill of Egly-Ouriet safely in the glass, BettyLu’s exquisite shrimp bisque arrives, a lovely bowl of pearly pink and creamy broth exuding a heavenly rich aroma. An appreciative gasp from the diners, and murmurs of anticipation, and quiet descends as all apply themselves to the bisque, creamy sweet and delicious and exquisitely cut with the brisk and acidic lemony-toasty bite of crystalline Champagne.

The only problem here is restraint. The bisque and champagne is so beguiling you’re ready to replay Oliver in the poorhouse and supplicate for more of each…but all of us are experienced enough in the plentitude of BL’s cassoulet that we muster up what willpower we have and grudgingly say no to the seconds we really do want.

As the ever reliable Kevin begins to prepare the plates in the kitchen for the main course, Lou brings out the headliner wine.

There’s always a bit of excitement here---we know it’s going to be good, but we don’t know exactly what it’s going to be. Usually…but not always…Rhone, yes; but Lou has surprised us in the past, and even in the Rhone there is sufficient variation of style to keep us wandering.

It is to be a classic evening, it appears, for Lou brings out Robert & Patrick Jasmin Cote Rotie 1998.

And then the plates of cassoulet begin to arrive…

Cassoulet at the Kesslers 2011: Part 2

2011-04-24T17:27:00.000-07:00

And the social hour continues, with more food, more wine, and increasingly more voluble conversation as both are consumed.

Just as we knew there would be Austrian there, we also expected a fine Burgundian---and lo and behold, what did our wandering eyes see appear on the bar but...why, yes, it is: 2004 Chassagne-Montrachet 1er Cru - Les Caillerets, Domaine Fontaine-Gagnard.

And a fine Chassagne-Montrachet it is too. A bit slow to emerge, even though it is at perfect serving temperature, neither too chilled nor too warm; yet, it is shy. Thankfully, not too much evidence of oak---which means there is some, but it is in moderation, just as it should be. Why make wine from chardonnay and then mask it with oak, after all? Maybe these French guys know what they're doing.

It's right about then I realize---this wine isn't shy at all! It's elegant. It has a brightness and liveliness that is charming, with assertive citrus notes backed up by some minerality, and what I thought was a shy nose is simply a delicate, light perfume of white flowers---honestly, like smelling a bouquet of fresh flowers with a squeeze of lemon, bizarre as that description may sound. This is a subtle, understated wine that requires a little attention...so subtle you might easily overlook it if more assertive ones were around making more noise.

And what's that noisy little bottle over there, demanding attention (and getting it)? Aha, Mount Eden Vineyards Santa Cruz Mountains Chardonnay 2006.

Nothing shy about this one, and counterpoint to the a pointe of the Chassagne-Montrachet, the MEV is also bright, but California-sunshiny, ripe orange bright, with a little dash of fresh lime juice in there to perk it up. This is the fruit-drenched, cool place in a warm climate, developed fruit kind of style...and you have to get used to all that fruit before you realize, it too has subtleties (yes, actual subtleties!) underneath that cornucopia. There's a lovely structure of acidity and minerality holding it together---not as much stone as the Chassagne-Montrachet, but then again, that's a wine of a different place and style, and the MEV has need of more lattice of acidity to support the zaftig opulence it has to carry.

The Chassagne-Montrachet is a lovely chardonnay from a region where you often have to coax the ripeness and development of fruit, then take care to keep the structure light but firm. The MEV, on the other hand, is a different sort of challenge, a wine with such a natural abundance of fruit that it requires balance and restraint in its underpinnings. Both winemakers have done impressive jobs with their respective wines.

But wait....there's another white wine on the counter!!! Cagy Lou often has a surprise lurking, so what can it be?

Oh. It's an Angiolino Maule Pico Bianco 2008. Wait...what? What the hell is an Angiolino Maule Pico Bianco?

Lou must've come under the influence of the East Coast Wine Set again, and come back with a wine that no one else has ever heard of. Probably orange. Probably "natural wine." Probably Louis/Dressner. Has that look and feel about it, like something that Louis/Dressner would find back in the mountains or tucked away in a little village somewhere.

Hey, it's good!!! Tasty stuff. Fresh, clean, slightly nutty and smooth. Medium-bodied, slightly chewy and clean---did I say that already? I think I did.

[Later on I did a little research, and yep, it was Louis/Dressner, and the wine is organic, 'natural', artisanal, small batch, wine-with-a-philosophy (oh, I already said Louis/Dressner, didn't I?) from the Veneto. It is technically Gambellara, a designation that means more-or-less the extended area of Soave. Maule makes several wines; the Pico is 100% Garganega (the primary grape of Soave), but here it is open-vat fermented, no sulphur added, and the grapes show off their natural, un-adorned character with startling simplicity and purity of aroma and flavor. It's a real find, and a delightful discovery.]

We're enjoying ourselves, with all the wines that Lou has laid out, and with the rotating servings of finger food---those mushroom caps, my, my; and I can't say no to the ceviche; and those tiny, handmade cheese crackers! Face it, I have no willpower where BL's food is concerned---but we all know very well why we're here and what the main show is going to be, so when BL suggests we move toward the table as we hear the delicate pop of a Champagne bottle in the next room, we need no further urging. Cassoulet, here we come!

Cassoulet at the Kesslers 2011: Part 1

2011-04-23T10:06:00.000-07:00

It was a dark and stormy night.

No, really. It was. The weather was miserable, with steady rain all day, an occasional grumble of thunder off in the distance, whippy winds coming from nowhere, and occasional hailstorms piling up little glistening projectiles over the streets and lawns.

But the magic hour was approaching. BettyLu had been working away all day in the kitchen, assisted by a hard working and lusty wench with some surprising talents, and the guests were about to arrive. Lou had the wines arrayed on the counter of the bar. Everything, finally, was in readiness.

The legendary JBL (he invented wine retail in California) arrived, looking dapper and Euro-stylish with one arm tucked carefully away inside the folds of his leather jacket. We all suspected a tale out of James Bond's exploits..but it was only trying to climb the precarious hills of upper Berkeley after a hail storm and losing balance that occasioned the limp wrist. It's dangerous going out to get the newspaper in Berkeley. Californians just aren't used to inclement weather of the frozen variety. Lynn, apparently intelligent enough not too walk down icy clay slopes in the rain, looked fine, and a welcome sight she was for us Oregon travelers.

Then they came in a clutter: Mark Anisman, the stylish doctor and wine aficionado from up-valley; the elusive Pimpernel of wine, Alan Bree, with a Ridge lurking underneath his coat for Lou (although it's not in any way an unusual or remarkable sight to see Bree and Ridge in the same place---it's been said that Bree knows more about Ridge than that guy Draper, and it may be true---closely followed by Nils Lofgren, rock star...no, I mean Nils Venge, wine star.

The space between wine bar and kitchen immediately became crowded, as it always does on cassoulet night, as everyone maneuvered for position halfway between the wine and the food, and thus halfway between BettyLu and Lou, and stories about the year were babbled betwixt and between, and a year past was caught up on.

The lineup of wines was, as usual, impressive.

Lou keeps his excellent cellar well stocked with lovely Austrian wines. This time he pulled out a Rudi Pichler Gruner Veltliner Smaragd 2001. I never fail to marvel at the silky-smooth, rich mouthfeel of a good Gruner---and this is a very good Gruner at the right age, although it will probably live for a very long time to come. That celery seed and white pepper nose with minerals and acids lurking underneath round it out and firm it up even more. It's perfect with the little crisp pastry cups filled with lime-laced ceviche that are going around.

Next up was another Austrian...another Wachau...another 2001...another Smaragd...and another winner, but this time a Riesling, the 2001Franz Hirtzberger Singerriedel Riesling.

If anything, more brisk and acid-driven, with a clean, slaty, brisk, lean---well, you get the idea. Shiver the senses Riesling, this is. Hair rising on the arms Riesling. Covet the bottle Riesling. Why don't I drink more Riesling? Riesling. (Because I don't have many Rieslings like this on hand usually.)

Strictly in the interests of scientific curiosity, I decided it was necessary to sample ceviche once more, this time with the Hirtzberger. Wow! Two things emerge immediately: BettyLu (and her talented sous-chef) know how to make great ceviche, and Lou knows how to match wines with ceviche.

End of Part I. Part II to come, with a classic French and a nouvelle Veneto shortly!

Copa di Vino: Could You, Would You, Should You?

2011-04-10T09:42:00.000-07:00

Strolling through my local upscale food emporium---you can't really call them grocery stores anymore; it just doesn't seem proper and fitting somehow---I noticed that above the freshly prepared and pre-portioned foods a rack contained two new items, Copa di Vino Chardonnay and Cabernet Sauvignon. (There are apparently other wines called Riesling, Merlot, and Pinot Grigio in the Copa di Vino lineup, but were not present in this establishment.)

An idea made real by a Columbia Valley winery entrepreneur and featured on the TV show "Shark Tank", wherein budding billionaires propose their ideas to potential investors, Copa di Vino is a 'by the glass' serving of wine packaged as...well, a by the glass serving of wine complete with glass, all sealed up and ready for consumption with only a twist of the lid required.

Fully disposable for our disposable culture, or I suppose eminently reusable and recyclable, a la jelly jars, the Copa di Vino may either be a brilliant sales and marketing idea or another item that seemed brilliant at the time. The jury, as they say, is still out.

Thing is, this is neither brilliant nor particularly new, simply a retread of an idea put into practice many years before with moderate success. At least thirty years ago Hacienda Wine, from Sonoma Valley, produced many thousands of cases of pre-packaged by the glass containers with plastic glasses inverted on a single-serving wine bottle and shrink wrapped together. Paul Masson's version of "container and server combined" leaned toward a more profitable and practical and less costly concept of bottling their wine in decanter-shaped and metal-lidded bottles which could subsequently be used, one assumes, for decanting other wines---if one did not particularly care that all wines thenceforth served would bear the rubric of Paul Masson.

Copa di Vino is merely another version of the concept; with refinement and focus, one might say; or merely a tweaking through advanced technology enabling a slight improvement, another might say.

Trouble is, it comes down to wine as a convenience beverage against wine as more-than-a-beverage: whether it is more important to have uncompromised quality in the glass, even it it is not particularly convenient and requires the actual (quel horreur) extra step of pouring from one container to another slightly smaller, or whether the quality does not matter so much as the ability to have what one wants when one wants it...as long as one doesn't care whether the satisfaction of the urge is particularly satisfying or not.

So: $2.99 for a few ounces of what is likely to be a mediocre, factory-produced, volume driven glass of indiscriminate plonk (despite the flowing varietal descriptions on the package, does anyone really expect more than that?). Would you? Could you? Should you?

I could. I probably should, so I can opine on the experience. But I wouldn't, and didn't, so I'll have to rely on more intrepid souls with investigate drive to supply the answer. If you're that person, by all means, try it and let me know.

Guess serving cost per ounce coupled with convenience isn't what I consider important when it comes to wine. Silly me.

Curiouser and Curiouser: Brocard Chablis Vaulorent 2008

2011-03-23T10:17:00.000-07:00

Curiouser and curiouser...

I've been a fan of Jean-Marc Brocard Chablis for a long time now, and I usually like his Vaulorent Premier Cru.

Found this at a particularly good price, and it was a good vintage, so I figured it was a great deal.

Sadly, it really wasn't.

It was pleasant enough, and nothing was "wrong" with it...but I expect more than pleasant enough from a good Chablis. I expect outstanding.

As a Chablis AOC, this would likely have been fine. But it wasn't, It was a Chablis Premier Cru, and that raises expectations.

The essential nature of Chablis was there---the clean, unwooded lines of Chardonnay---but it was pro forma and lacking in focus and grip and anything that would distinguish it as wine from an exceptional site.

There was a vague sense of citrus fruit, but no definable or distinctive elements within that generic description. There was little to no liveliness or vivacity that I expect from Chablis Premier Cru, and no perceptible depth or dimension either. No minerality, no oyster shells, no salty breeze in the nose---really, none of the things that I look for in Chablis Premier Cru.

I'll hasten to add---before the legion of wine geeks suggest that I overlooked this aspect---that I considered this may be in a 'closed' phase. Been known to occur in Burgundies, and definitely in Chablis. But that wasn't it. The wine wasn't closed up or hiding in its shell. Just not much there there. I'd like to be generous and say the wine will blossom out within a few years...but I really don't expect it will.

I say this with reservation---as mentioned, I've been a fan of Brocard for a while...but this one just didn't make the cut. Doesn't mean I'm off Brocard. One wine does not a legend make or break, and I'd have to have more misses than hits, and Brocard still leads with many hits. So I'll go back and try other Brocard Chablis and hope this was just a one-off.

Artezin Zinfandels: Getting back to what Zin is supposed to be.

2011-02-23T18:44:00.000-08:00

If more Zinfandel tasted like this, I'd be drinking more Zinfandel.

Had an opportunity to taste the two basic Artezin offerings this week in the company of winemaker Randle Johnson. I came away thinking I needed to have more Artezin Zin in my drinking lineup.

Randle is an affable, comfortable guy who's literally experiencing the wide variety of wine regions all over the world as the key winemaker for Donald Hess and his collection of wineries. But it's apparent from the get-go that Randle is a zinfandel lover...and not just zinfandel, but the kind of zinfandel that used to be the standard, before it got replaced with mucky, gobby stewed globs of over-ripe fruit and screeching alcohols.

With Artezin, Randle explained, the intent was to make zins the way California used to make them: solid, easy drinking, brambleriar and fresh berry fruit and pepper spice wines that were made to drink and enjoy.

I'd say that's an exact description of the two wines put in front of me to taste.

The first was the 2009 Artezin Mendocino Zinfandel, with zippy, bright boysenberry and blackberry fruit...okay, maybe a touch of pom-wonderful puckerishness in there to liven it up...followed by a blast of black pepper and clove and spicy cinnamon to tingle the palate, then finishing with a slightly sweet/slightly peppery slide of bakery spices. No raisins, no prunes, no over-sweetened jam, no drench of alcohol, and no scratchy tannins to get in the way but just enough to keep it all interesting. You know, the kind of zin that when you finish your first glass, you look around for the bottle for your second glass? I think they used to call it "rustic". Yeah, that kind of zin.

The second bottle followed through with that same streak of red fruit, black fruit, spice---but it was noticeably different from the Mendocino. It was the 2007 Artezin Dry Creek Zinfandel. The additional two years had softened it up and rounded it out a bit, and the provenance of Dry Creek had added more black fruit and a notch more body and grippy mouthfeel, and along with that a touch more natural tannin. Had more grip to it, and more bite of spice and cracked black pepper in its nature, but toned down with a little age. Altogether, a very nice Sonoma Dry Creek zin.

With the two, we had the bookends of the perfect range of zinfandel---light, bright and zingy from Mendocino, and full-bodied, meaty and structured from Dry Creek. Nothing excess. Nothing overstated. Nothing obtrusively manipulated. Just....good, honest zinfandel.

And nowadays, that's a lot.

This writing thing can be fun...

2010-12-16T12:38:00.000-08:00

It can also be work. It can even, on rare occasions, be remunerative.

Not much, but some.

Recently scored a few new venues in which to write I wanted to share.

First, after my several articles as the Portland Spirits Examiner for Examiner.com, they have now appointed me the National French Wine Examiner for same internet magazine.

My new "beat" covers...well, pretty much anything I want to write about regarding French wines!

That's a pretty big territory to cover, I think you'll admit. Shouldn't be boring--at least to me, anyway. Can't speak for the people that have to read what I scribble/type.

If you'd like to read the first couple of article you can go here.

And in future, you can go to the upper right side of this page and click on the link to the National French Wine Examiner.

The first article is regarding Pierre Lurton's announcement today featuring Yquem By The Glass at some fantastic French and Monte Carlo restaurants. Think of Yquem By The Glass at Pierre Gagnaire in Paris: if that doesn't sound exciting, then you're not very much of a gastronome!

I'm also in process of penning a lead article for a liquor magazine on bitters and bitter liqueurs. More about that anon.